“This is the time we have to walk stepping on the storm.” ― Suman Pokhrel

  Malcolm blinked and the sound of jets ripped through the air. He stood on the carrier deck with one arm behind him and a free hand scrubbing his thickening beard. He watched the fighter formation move over the Seattle Sky Needle; the city sat with a faint smog under the musky rain, an aftermath of the riots. The carrier deck behind Malcolm contained a score of black hawks. A pilot screamed from an open door, “We’re taking off, Nelson!”

  Malcolm turned around, checking the chamber in his ‘Crystal’, and entered the black hawk’s passenger cabin with three other Majors. They took off in sequence with the other helicopters as Malcolm strapped himself in.

  They rode over the massed fleet with a near permanent silence. Sitting next to the window, Malcolm took in the sight of sunken barges where tens of thousands had tried to exodus the city, rather than stay at home and follow the quarantine. It was over the city Coast Guard Base that the parade of helicopters made their descent.

  The Port Base was overflown with military vessels; Malcolm’s helicopter made its descent into a parking lot that had traffic barriers erected around them for landings. Malcolm unstrapped himself and exited the chopper, he was slapped by flailing winds caused by the seven additional helicopters landing. Malcolm turned to his left and walked over; the other Majors went into a square building adjacent to the parking lot. The crowd of officers bustled up the building’s staircase where each would take over their commands and possible strategies.

  Malcolm entered an armored M-ATV’s driver’s seat and awaited his Captains. It took another set of choppers landing in the parking lot before they entered, one-at-a-time. Captains Kemper, Thompson, and Liam Campbell; each cramped inside with the rain dripping off them. Bannon finally joined them after holding his canteen up in the air, refilling it with rainwater.

  “Ah, pleased you all are here.” Malcolm spoke as he started the ignition.

  “We have no choice.” Kemper quipped.

  “Be that as is may.” Malcolm said. “You’ll be deployed out there before long.”

  Thompson clapped his hands. “Right, ‘Major’ Nelson, what are our orders?”

  From a single folder left in the glove box for Malcolm, he withdrew documents which depicted strategic maps of Seattle. After passing them around, Malcolm started down the road. They pulled out of the Coast Guard Base and were driving through a city as one with a convoy. Everywhere Malcolm looked, the streets were pockmarked with trash or a smashed vehicle. Hundreds of civilians were violating quarantine by being out in public, getting soaked by the rainfall while others gathered the water. They passed a breadline stretching from a Coast Guard checkpoint all the way down several blocks by the time everyone had swapped the documents.

  “Two distinct Quarantine zones are being carved out by the walls we’re building.” Malcolm finally started. “Ours stretches from Shorewood, up to Mountain Lake Terrace. The Second is in Bellevue, across Lake Washington.” Malcolm pointed over to Kemper’s map next to him, his finger singled the landmass inside the lake. “Command HQ and the State Government has been consolidated to Mercer Island. The Initial riots forced the National Guard to blow the bridges connecting.

  Now that the cavalry is here in force, the National Guard can focus on finishing the walls and keeping the civilians from going apeshit. Our priority is going to be the securing of the State’s highways. Your companies are going South, passing Tacoma.”

  Kemper spoke up. “We’re not on the walls?”

  “The walls aren’t done yet.” Malcolm answered while their convoy passed a storage warehouse, full to the brim with ammunition and guards on posts. “Every community in the State has been hit with mass looting and the roads have been gridlocked with people camping beside their cars. It’s worse the further you get to California so be glad we aren’t there. Clear the roads and secure the land routes while the National Guard handles town keeping and food distribution.”

  Everyone shared a silence before Liam spoke up. “What if there’s an outbreak?”

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  “Infected are to be isolated, if possible, then secured for transport and CDC testing. This applies to bodies dropped. Don’t take chances with anyone appearing sick, get them isolated from everyone else.”

  Bannon shook his head, “You are telling me we don’t have a testing kit?”

  “Blood samples seem to turn black minutes after being taken.” Malcolm reiterated. “Anyone who appears manic needs to be restrained.”

  They all looked at each other.

  “So that’s it?” Thompson asked.

  Malcolm nodded. “You’re all deployed within the next day. Get yourselves and your companies rested, and fed. Command wants to move forward as soon as possible.”

  “No, bullshit!” Thompson called out. “We were told the wall is the priority! We should be camped in the city and waiting on a vaccine!”

  The ATV passengers nodded, except for Liam.

  “Yea,” said Bannon. “We should be staying where the Dead aren’t gonna be.”

  Before Malcolm could muster a retort, Liam spoke up. “So, you pricks want to wait for the infected to be swarming all around the walls?”

  “I thought we were pooling people inside the Zones!” Bannon yelled.

  “How many people can that support?” Liam asked. “You know we need farmlands, right? We box in, we may as well wait to die.” This was sunken in by the group as Malcolm kept his eyes on the road.

  Liam continued, “Not to mention the fact that we’re supposed to be an ARMY. Now more than ever!” Malcolm finally eyed Liam through the rearview mirror, who was staring right back into him before looking at everyone else.

  “You people want the vaccine? You want ‘tomorrow’ to get here and to see your homes again? You’ll fall through on this. We have automatic weapons, armored and air support. The Amoeba doesn’t.”

  By now, the structure of the southern quarantine wall could be viewed over the rooftops. Its frame stretched to two hundred feet in the air and the construction crews were making distant sparks from overworked power tools. Malcolm waited in the silence to drag out before he chose to continue. “Just remember what we’re fighting for. I’m supposed to meet with the Lieutenant Colonel before going out there myself.”

  “So, you’ll be right behind us?” Kemper asked.

  “Almost literally.” Malcolm answered as he pulled past the barbed fences of the military checkpoint beneath the Wall’s gate. They pulled to a stop outside another storage depot being used as a barrack. “I’m hoping you people got your R and D in during our voyage,” Malcolm stated. “Now get ready for action.”

  They exited one at a time. Once they were inside the barracks, Malcolm drove to the checkpoint’s HQ, established within a local library. Malcolm parked the armored vehicle and strode through the rainy parking lot.

  The inside of the library had every table occupied with officers going over the various reports from quartermasters regarding supply allocations. Lieutenant Colonel Clemens was standing beside several rows of tables, having something read to him by a subordinate. Clemens noticed Malcolm and waved him over. “Nelson! What’s the ETA on your regiment?”

  “Company C.O.s are dropped off, sir. Rest should be moving in throughout the day.”

  Clemens nodded. “Good. I want you bastards going south at first light tomorrow.”

  He dismissed the subordinate and motioned for Malcolm to follow him. He was led to the library office and Clemens stopped to fill his canteen by the water fountain.

  Malcolm couldn’t help but ask. “How close are we to curing it?”

  Clemens batted an eye. “You’re asking the wrong person.”

  “You are telling me the WHO announcement is still all we have on the infection?”

  “Not what I said.” Clemens and Malcolm entered the office. The Lieutenant Colonel grabbed a folder out the office desk before sitting down; he slid the documents over. “McElroy said you could see it directly. For your eyes only.”

  Clemens took a deep swig of his canteen. Malcolm took the folder, its font contained the red phrase, ‘Classified’. Malcolm looked back at Clemens, “Where’s McElroy?”

  Clemens appeared to have finished a quarter of his canteen. “Mercer Island, with the state government and the command staff. You’re not them, so don’t ask to go there.”

  Malcolm grinded his teeth. “He promised me my family…”

  “Nelson! I have two sons stationed in Afghanistan and I’ve heard nothing from them since the Outbreak! You can annoy McElroy once the walls are finished. For now, you shut up and be a good soldier.”

  Malcolm huffed. “Yes sir.”

  Clemens leaned back. “Good. Go rest. No telling when the timetable will shift.”

  Malcolm nodded and left with the documents as Clemens swirled his canteen before another deep sip. He let out a brief cough, almost having swallowed down the wrong pipe.